


Don't forget to disinfect your mask

by curv



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossdressing Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, M/M, Masturbation, Peter Parker is 17, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curv/pseuds/curv
Summary: Tony helps Peter keep his suit clean.They quickly realize there’s more than one kind of dirty laundry.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 23
Kudos: 200





	Don't forget to disinfect your mask

**Author's Note:**

> This is the kind of thing my mind comes up with when I watch Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse one day and walk into the drug store the next. So help me. Title and some of the plot inspired by Peter B. Parker telling Miles “ _disinfect your mask and don’t forget baby powder for the suit_ ”. This wasn’t supposed to be longer than a scene at the store, but I couldn’t stop. So. 
> 
> The beginning scene picks up directly after Happy and Tony drop Peter off in the beginning of Spider-Man: Homecoming.  
> Here’s the clip (watch from 4:00) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEI6jwBfFu8 
> 
> The rest of the MCU plot is ignored. I just kind of ran with it.

“It’s not a hug,” Tony clarified. “I’m just grabbing the door for you. We’re not— we’re not there yet.”

Peter scrambled out of the car, waiting by the suitcase containing his brand-new Stark-made spider suit. He stood tensely, unsure of what to say next, but Tony beat him to the punch.

“Bye.”

The car sped away.

A farewell died on Peter’s lips as he watched Happy and Tony depart. Sighing, Peter grabbed the suitcase handle and hesitated before walking straight upstairs to his apartment where Aunt May was waiting. Instead, he rounded the corner for the nearest late-night drug store.

Peter bit his lip as he walked in, glancing nervously at the cashiers and hoping he didn’t look suspicious. I mean, who casually carried around a giant metallic suitcase, anyway? 

He did.

Peter squinted at the signs hanging above the aisles, trying to determine which ones he needed and how to navigate to them. The few items on his list were simple enough — baby powder and detergent. Or disinfectant. Whatever. Something to get the suit clean, because for real… fighting a handful of superheroes really worked up a sweat. Teenager though he was, Peter understood he needed to practice some basic hygiene.

It only took a minute to find the baby powder. Peter picked up the biggest container they had. While he was there, he grabbed some wet wipes to work as a shower substitute if he was ever in a pinch. 

The next aisle over, Peter hesitated while staring at the seemingly endless options of detergents. If part of his suit was electrical, did that mean it wasn’t machine washable? Tony really should have given him instructions to go with this thing, Peter thought. He sighed. 

Shifting the baby power and wipes into the crook of his arm that was holding onto the suitcase, Peter pulled his phone out and dialed Happy’s number.

An amused voice spoke over the sound of classic rock music, “Hello, Peter. Forget something?”

“Mr.— Mr. Stark? Hi. I have a quick question, if you’re not too busy—”

“He’s too busy,” Happy’s irritated voice interrupted bluntly.

“No, I’m not,” Tony said. “Forgive Happy, it’s past his bedtime. What’s up, kid?”

“Well, I— I’m at the store, and I’m— I’m trying to pick out a disinfectant for the, you know—” Peter’s voice dropped to a whisper, “the suit.”

“Ahuh.”

“Do you have any— any recommendations? I already checked before the flight, and there’s not a list of washing instructions in the suitcase—”

“Peter, did you just call me... to ask how to do your laundry?”

“I—” Peter blushed.

“I’m kidding. You make a good point. Definitely not machine washable.”

“Oh,” Peter replied.

“You want a fabric disinfectant spray. Clorox sells something like that,” Tony said.

Looking up, he found the sign that indicated which aisle had cleaning products. It was two rows over.

“Fabric disinf—” Peter repeated back in a mumble, “Ok. Thanks, Mr. Sta—”

The line disconnected.

Frowning at his phone, Peter put the cell back in his pocket and shuffled the items he was buying back into his free hand.

The artificial lighting made the store feel nothing short of clinical, but as Peter rounded a corner to the next section of items he caught a glimpse of something that piqued his interest. His feet stopped, although Peter couldn’t explain why, and he stared at the packages of nylon stockings hanging at the aisle’s end cap.

The feminine legs modeling hosiery were not what made Peter hesitate. It was suddenly wondering what they’d look like on male legs. What they’d feel like on _his_ body. Peter would never ever admit it, _especially_ not to any of the Avengers, but Tony’s new suit had awakened part of him that he had yet to explore. The feeling of skin-tight material hugging his ass and thighs and abs, had felt weirdly… nice.

It was certainly much nicer than the homemade sweatsuit he was accustomed to putting on. The ratty outfit was baggy, and saggy, and made him feel pretty frumpy most of the time. 

Mr. Stark’s new spider suit, though, made him feel… sexy.

He’d had similar thoughts before, staring at women’s clothes, partly as a result of being raised by Aunt May. She always took him shopping with her, and Peter would wander through aisles waiting for her to finish trying things on, absorbed in the flow and prints of girls’ clothes. Peter... liked them. He liked most feminine things. He wanted to explore having and wearing feminine things. Would it really— could he do it?

Could he buy these without falling through the floor at the cash register under the weight of his own embarrassment?

Probably not.

Pulling the corners of his mouth down, Peter still hesitated to leave his spot. Shuffling the items awkwardly back to his occupied arm, he reached out with a free hand to touch nylon material with gentle fingertips.

He gravitated to the darker pairs. Peter thought they were sexier, somehow, although he couldn’t exactly explain why. As he traced the seam of the waistband poking out from the cardboard envelope that encased the hose like a clamshell, he was suddenly ripped from his tranquil thought process by the sound of a man clearing his throat.

Peter gasped. He dropped everything he was holding and spun on his heel. As the metal case clattered to the ground, he fumbled with the container of baby powder, almost able to get a grip on it, but—

Its fate was sealed. The plastic container hit the floor at an awkward angle, and a _poof_ of powder exploded in a large white cloud.

Tony Stark coughed a bit, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the air.

“Peter,” he said.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter replied shrilly, voice stuck at a comically high pitch. “What— what are you doing here?!” 

“Helping you pick out a suitable product so you don’t accidentally destroy half a million dollars’ worth of private Stark technology,” he replied dryly.

With a sly smirk, Tony added, “But I didn’t realize I was interrupting a personal shopping trip for your girlfriend.”

“I— I—” Peter wanted to die. Tony was waiting and staring expectantly, so Peter diverted himself by squatting to collect everything he had dropped. 

As soon as he grabbed the baby powder container, it released a second white cloud, this time aimed rather unfortunately at Tony.

Peter stood, and Tony slowly reached out with a single finger to click the lid back in place. Peter clutched the baby powder to his chest, along with the wet wipes and metal suitcase, using all of the items like amalgamated armor. 

“S-sorry—” Peter stammered.

Tony brushed the front of his gray blazer and white kitten t-shirt, succeeding in removing most of the powder that had settled on his person. Toying with Peter purely for fun at this point, Tony asked, “What’s her name?”

Peter blushed a deep crimson and felt his heartbeat pounding faintly in his ears, stammering, “I— I don’t— have... a girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Tony quipped, entirely casual.

Peter’s face betrayed a tinge of horrified panic beneath a veneer of poorly conjured calm. He answered, after a pause with a very small voice, “... no.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, turned to look behind himself before craning his neck to peek behind Peter. Meeting Peter’s gaze, he winked and said, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Feet frozen to the spot, Peter shook his head and shrugged a little too exaggeratedly, acting like he wasn’t sure what Tony was referring too with an attitude suspiciously too casual.

With a fond smile, Tony clapped Peter on the shoulder and turned to walk from whence he’d come.

“Clorox is this way,” he called over his shoulder.

Cursing under his breath, Peter stepped quickly after Tony, trying to keep up.

Was Tony a mind reader? Could he read minds? Did he have secret superpowers other than being a genius billionaire?

“You want this one,” Tony declared when he stopped in front of the disinfectants. He pulled a canister of Clorox from the shelf, reading the label cheerfully to Peter. “Freshen up your clothes between washes... kills 99.9% of bacteria. Refreshes your clothes and eliminates odors.”

“Perfect,” Peter smiled weakly.

Tony placed the can precariously on the pile of items Peter was toting around.

“Anything else, dear?”

Peter made a choking sound, “No, that’s— that’s everything.”

“If you have any serious issues with the suit, it can be dry cleaned. But for obvious reasons, you won’t want to take it to a dry cleaner. Secret identity, and whatnot,” Tony said.

Eyeing Peter up and down, he added, “I have a private facility at Stark Tower you can use… just let me know.”

“S-sure,” Peter smiled. 

Peter waited with baited breath while Tony watched him a few seconds longer.

“C’mon, kid,” Tony finally said. “I’m buying. If this takes any longer, Happy might have a stroke.” 

* * *

The first time Peter needed Tony’s services, he’d run out of silk in his shooters and fallen headfirst into a fish market dumpster. The stench was enough to make him gag just thinking about it.

Peter had waddled home, riding the subway — a whole car to himself — and he called Tony as soon as he was back in his room. He’d triple-bagged the spider suit but the odor _still_ lingered.

“Mr. Stark?” 

“Hey, kid. What’s up?” 

“I, uh— I think I need to use the, um... the Stark Tower cleaners,” Peter said nervously.

“So soon?” Tony sounded surprised. He mused absentmindedly into the phone, “I wonder if it’s your hormones…” 

Somewhat offended, Peter gave his freshly-showered armpits a whiff. He quickly countered, “No, no, I… I had an accident. At— at the wharf. The suit is pretty disgusting.”

“Hmm. Bring it by,” Tony said. “As luck would have it, I’m in the city tonight.”

“Really?” Peter’s voice went up in his mix of surprise and excitement.

“Yeah. Ground floor, second door on the left. Three knocks to the beat of _The Chain_ by Fleetwood Mac,” Tony instructed.

“Uh… what?” 

“I’m kidding. Do you even know who Fleetwood Mac is?” Tony asked. He added quickly, “Don’t answer that.”

Peter laughed.

Tony said, “Just come up to the front desk, the receptionist will send you to the right place. Bring your intern badge.”

“Got it.”

An hour later, Peter rocked on his toes while he waited for the elevator to descend to Tony’s personal lab. The receptionist wasn’t surprised to see him — Tony must have tipped her off that he was coming. 

As soon as the doors dinged and Peter was able to step into the basement hallway, one hand clutching the mass of plastic surrounding his wretched suit, he heard AC/DC playing faintly from around the corner and supposed that was the direction he should walk.

Tony was nodding his head to the music, dressed in only a t-shirt and jeans while he worked on something involving screwdrivers and a lot of mechanical grease. Peter’s breath caught in his throat when Tony looked up from what he was doing and locked eyes with him. 

“Mr. Parker. Welcome.”

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter smiled.

Tony’s eyes dropped to the trash bag in Peter’s hand and he smirked, “I see you brought the suit. That bad, really?”

“You have no idea,” Peter huffed, holding it out toward Tony as he approached.

“People don’t hand me things,” Tony corrected, breezing past Peter to the other side of the lab.

“Oh,” Peter murmured.

“Follow me, Pete.”

Peter walked with Tony in silence through a hallway to a smaller room. It wasn’t well-lit, and there were no windows. It contained big freezer-refrigerators whirring loudly, or at least loudly to his spidey-senses, and he shifted uncomfortably while Tony pressed a series of buttons on a futuristic-looking machine.

The machine was narrow and tall, like Peter’s high school locker, only more rounded and deeper. With one last press of a button, the machine opened. It slid outward to reveal an empty frame. A single hook was suspended from the center of the top of the frame, which Peter assumed a shirt, pair of pants, or… spider suit could hang. To be dry cleaned.

“Cool,” Peter commented.

“You’re too easily impressed,” Tony said. He reached out and took the bag from Peter’s clenched fist, ignoring the beginning of protests from Peter.

“Mr. Stark, it’s really—”

“Oh, _dear god_ ,” Tony cursed. A waft of rancid air came from the tear in the bag Tony had made to retrieve the suit.

Holding his nostrils with one hand, Tony turned to Peter with a scowl and said, “If this happens again I’m changing your name to Fish-Man.”

Peter looked horrified.

As Tony hung the body of the suit inside the machine, deflated limbs dangling, he added, “And I’ll modify your suit. To have a fish on it.”

“You wouldn’t!” Peter said.

“Don’t think I’m not joking,” Tony scowled, draping Peter’s mask in a side compartment to be cleaned as well.

With a series of taps, the machine returned to its previous appearance, suit now enclosed safely inside. Fingers crossed, this magic metal cleaning machine would keep Peter from ever smelling that gnarly scent again.

“That’s it?” Peter asked.

“That’s it,” Tony replied, finally releasing his nose. “Jesus Christ, it _still_ smells like shit.”

“Sorry,” Peter apologized, edging out of the room.

Tony followed, dramatically sucking in clean air once they had left the machine room. He glanced at Peter, “This might take a while. You don’t need to stick around.”

“I don’t mind,” Peter offered.

“No, no, you go home. I’ll have Happy deliver it when it’s clean. We’ll keep up with that system,” Tony said.

“What system?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Your suit will probably need to be cleaned once a week, even without these… occasional disasters.”

“Right.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “And I suppose your friends will ask too many questions if a personal dry-cleaning machine suddenly shows up in your bedroom?”

“... yeah, probably,” Peter sighed.

“Then you’ll just have to drop it off here when it needs to be cleaned, and I’ll have it sent back to your place each time it’s done,” Tony said.

“Are you sure? I mean, don’t you want to just teach me how to do it on my own in case you’re busy or go out of town?”

“If that happens, I’ll leave instructions with JARVIS and he’ll help you handle it,” Tony shrugged.

“If you’re sure…” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel bad, though. Asking you to do this for me.”

Tony clapped a hand to Peter’s shoulder with a warm smile and twinkle in his eye, “Pete, every machine requires maintenance. It’s the beauty of engineering. I’m happy to do it.”

“Okay,” Peter blushed.

Already walking back to his earlier spot at the lab, Tony said, “Head home, I’ll see you sometime next week.”

“Okay, thanks. Bye, Mr. Stark!”

* * *

It was a year later when Peter made his first mistake giving Tony the suit.

Peter had gotten in the habit of stripping out of the spider suit as soon as he stumbled into his room, never caring where it landed. Being in high school, doing all the clubs he was in, and also running patrols meant he was pretty tired, like, _all the time_.

As a result, Peter hadn’t had a chance to organize his room in a while. So when he bagged up the suit as usual on a Thursday night, pushing the mask and spidey onesie into a small canvas drawstring laundry bag, he didn’t notice that he also accidentally added his one and only pair of lacy underwear. The navy blue fabric blended almost perfectly with the color of the suit.

Peter had bought the lingerie as a sixteenth birthday present for himself a few weeks ago. He had been browsing websites on incognito mode for months, and Peter kept coming back to this one pair. The lace waistband led to a silky hammock at the gusset. Peter wasn’t sure if he’d ever have the guts to order women’s stockings, but sexy undies were a good start. Trying them on had led to… a lot of hard-ons and late nights jerking off. 

After the subway ride to Stark Tower, Peter found out from the receptionist that Tony was in a dinner meeting and wouldn’t be back until later. Unfazed and still oblivious to his impending mortification, Peter dropped the bag off at the lab on Tony’s desk with a sticky note that read: 

_Thanks Mr. Stark :)_

_\- Peter_

The next morning, Happy buzzed the apartment intercom just as Peter was getting ready for school. Stumbling down the stairs, still rubbing sleepies out of his eyes, Peter took the cardboard box containing his suit with a smile and stuffed it into his backpack. He didn’t have time to come back home before starting his patrol after school, so this actually worked out perfectly.

“Great timing, Happy!” Peter said brightly.

“Whatever you say, Pete,” Happy replied grumpily. “I have no idea how you’re always this cheerful in the morning.”

“I’m cheerful all the time!” Peter smiled, waving as he headed down the sidewalk to school.

A full day and a stop at Delmar’s for some snacks later, Peter was in a New York alley ready to change into his suit for Friday night. Crime was always the worst on the weekends.

Peter pulled the box out of his backpack and broke the seal on the nondescript packing tape. Pushing the final flap out of the way, he gasped. _Oh dear god, no._

“Please let this be a nightmare,” Peter whimpered.

With a trembling hand, Peter pulled his freshly dry-cleaned lingerie off the top of his folded spider suit.

“ _Why_ does this always happen _to me?_ ” Peter groaned, turning to smack his head into the brick wall. The bricks crumbled under the force of his head.

Absentmindedly rubbing the brick dust off his unharmed skin, Peter sank down while staring at the box in disbelief. How could this happen? How could he be such an idiot? What would Tony think of him, now? 

Sighing as if it were the end of the world, Peter realized he could never talk to Mr. Stark ever again. But it was only a few moments into Peter’s throes of despair until he saw the note.

Blinking back tears that had welled up in his eyes, Peter took the piece of paper from beneath a fold of the suit and quickly read Tony’s handwriting.

_Pete,_

_Glad to be of service._ _  
_ _As always, your secret is safe with me._

_-TS_

* * *

They didn’t talk about it.

Peter and Tony had a strange ritual. Every week, Peter dropped off the suit. Maybe once a month, Peter wore the lacy panties and eventually worked up the courage to put them in the laundry bag on drop-off day. And in the morning, Tony returned them in the box with the suit, no one else the wiser.

They kept this up for months. Peter had occasional emergencies, although he thanked fate for never falling in a fish market dumpster again, and sometimes he had to bring the suit in more than once in a week.

On one such occasion, Tony invited him to stay.

“You got anything going on tonight, kid?” he asked.

“Me? No, just homework. But I’m almost done, so…” Peter replied.

“Well, the stench of gasoline you happened to grace me with reminded me of something. I’m working on some new fuel cells for Mark XLVIII,” Tony said.

At Peter’s blank stare, Tony added, “You know… the new Hulkbuster? Wanna stick around, lend me a hand?”

“Sure,” Peter smiled shyly.

Tony’s lips twitched up. He led them to his most cluttered workbench and resumed attaching a reactor to some metal plates.

“Hand me those wire strippers, would you?” Tony asked.

Peter handed them to Tony, leaning forward in his chair to watch the billionaire at work.

“What’s got you so quiet, kid?” Tony never took his eyes off of soldering.

“Oh,” Peter said in surprise. “I— I— just watching, I guess.” 

“You’ve soldered before, right?” Tony looked up, brown eyes impossible to read.

“Yes.”

“Go get a soldering gun. I have battery-powered ones in the drawer.”

Peter rolled across the floor to where Tony had gestured. On the third try, he found what he was looking for and returned to the work table.

“How can I help?” Peter asked.

“The glove is over there,” Tony pointed with his chin to the other end of the table, “and the wires need to be soldered to the arm. Red ones.”

“Gotcha,” Peter said. 

Within minutes, they were both working in companionable silence. Heavy metal was playing faintly through the lab’s speakers. 

Tony was so absorbed in his work he didn’t even notice when Peter finished connecting the components of the right arm. Peter set the soldering gun down to watch Tony handle the intricacies of the reactor; he was in the middle of attaching a nest of wires with practiced ease. 

In the light of the lab, the gray in Tony’s beard was a little more noticeable. But that didn’t keep Peter’s butterflies at bay. Tiny trails of smoke rose each time Tony connected a new wire, and Peter breathed in the metallic scent from burning flux. It was Tony’s version of cologne. Peter smelled it on him all the time, his heightened sense of smell never failing to pick up the odor of the lab on Tony’s clothes, even when they were out at a fancy Avengers event dressed to the nines in suits.

The lines around Tony’s eyes were faint while he focused. Hardly noticeable. Peter liked those wrinkles the most. They only showed up when Tony smiled and he really meant it. Tony was the handsomest man Peter had ever met.

“You gonna keep staring, or do you want me to give you something else to do?” Tony asked.

Surprised, not realizing Tony had been paying attention after all, Peter struggled for a reply. “I— sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn’t—”

“You can call me Tony, kid,” he said, finally looking up from his work. He looked at Peter pointedly.

“You can call me Peter, Tony.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, and his lips twitched at the faintest hint of a smile. Peter blushed at his own boldness. 

Finally, Tony said simply, “Touché.”

* * *

And so it went. 

Another year passed. Tony started inviting Peter to stay more frequently — not just on emergency days. It started happening every few weeks, but eventually Peter started helping Tony in the lab every week. Tony always had an excuse to keep him there. And Peter didn’t mind, not in the slightest.

“What’s up this week, boss?” Peter smiled. He handed the laundry bag to Tony, because these days Tony actually took it from him. Peter tried not to blush at the thought of his lace panties being in there this time.

“I’m actually not working tonight,” Tony said.

“Oh,” Peter replied, crestfallen.

“You can stick around, if you want,” Tony shrugged. “I was planning to watch a movie.” 

Peter lit up immediately, “Yeah? Yeah. Sure. Movie sounds awesome.”

Tony winked, taking the bag back to the machine room. Peter didn’t follow, and Tony knew why.

A few minutes later, Tony emerged from the room without the bag. Peter was trying to act casual on a rolling chair by a workbench, playing with some machine parts.

“Hey…” Tony said, sticking his hands in his jean pockets.

Peter looked up, still managing to maintain his act.

“Pete, your birthday is coming up.”

Peter nodded.

Tony continued, “Is it okay if I… get you a present?” He looked uneasy, cleared his throat, and added, “A present related to... that secret I’m keeping?”

Peter went bright red, stammering, “Mr. Stark, you really don’t— that’s too kind, really, thank you— but you don’t. Um… you don’t— have to… have to do something like that.”

“I want to,” Tony said, looking away.

“Oh.”

A pause.

“Um… sure, Tony.”

Tony looked back at Peter’s face. Could Peter see… was that… relief?

“Movie time?” Tony grinned. His shoulders sagged, relaxing. 

Peter went along with the subject change. “Where’s the popcorn? I’m gonna need snacks.”

“Insatiable,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes.

They spent the evening together on the lab couch, Dum-E tasked with holding a widescreen since Tony hadn’t figured out how to project movies as a 2D hologram yet. When they were done munching on the popcorn, which Peter ate 95% of by himself, Tony shifted the bowl to the floor and propped his arm up on the back of the couch behind Peter.

Hyper-aware of every breath Tony took, Peter shifted in his seat and wound up a few inches closer to Tony than he was before. Taking a sidelong glance at Peter, Tony cleared his throat and closed the distance, moving over til Peter’s side was touching his.

Tony didn’t take his eyes off the screen until Peter slowly, carefully, set his head on Tony’s shoulder. And then, just as carefully, Tony set his arm to rest along Peter’s side.

* * *

Three weeks later, Peter was moaning as he furiously stroked his cock in the safety of his bedroom, feet hanging off the end of his tiny twin bed.

“ _Ohgodohgodohgod_ ,” he panted coming for the second time all over his chest.

Blinking at the ceiling, Peter finally caught his breath. He looked down, past the lithe length of his abs to the hand that cradled his dick inside a lacy red thong. 

Tony had really outdone himself. 

The gift came on the day of his laundry delivery. Happy balanced the wrapped box, complete with expensive ribbon, on top of the usual nondescript cardboard package that contained his suit.

“Happy belated birthday,” Happy grunted. “This is from Tony.”

“Oh,” Peter blushed, taking the packages. 

“Don’t thank me all at once,” Happy joked.

“Right, sorry. Thanks, Happy!” Peter blushed harder, “I gotta go.”

As Peter dashed back in his apartment building, Happy muttered, “Always in a rush.”

His freshman year of college was starting in a few weeks, but for now it was still Peter’s summer break. He had been doing extra patrols around Queens and Brooklyn after high school graduation, excited to start at NYU in September. But he hadn’t had a day off in a while… and today, Aunt May was at work. Peter had the place to himself, and with the gift making Peter’s butterflies stir so strongly, Peter knew he was going to need some alone time.

Peter closed his bedroom door before opening the gift. He ripped open the shiny paper, exposing a white cardboard gift box. Carefully pulling off the lid, Peter gasped at what was inside.

Delicate lace. In ruby red. A thong fit for a queen, with extra space in the crotch for his junk. 

Peter got hard immediately. Reading Tony’s note was just icing on the cake.

_Peter,_

_I hope you will enjoy wearing this  
_ _as much as I enjoyed picking it out.  
_ _Happy 17th birthday._

_\- TS_

Peter had jerked off with them every day since.

And despite showering religiously before putting on the panties each time, they were starting to definitely need to be cleaned soon. Rubbing at a cum stain on the delicate silky fabric, Peter sighed in frustration. The inevitable had arrived — he needed to take them to Tony.

Biting his bottom lip, Peter lost his nerve and threw his thong under the bed. 

It would have to wait.

* * *

It only took a month for Peter to make up his mind.

Sexually frustrated and absolutely having a terrible time avoiding Tony each week when he dropped off the suit, Peter thought he might actually… finally... have a plan. 

Peter pulled on the spider suit and grabbed his laundry bag before jumping through his dorm room window.

It was exhilarating, every time, falling through the air only to hoist himself up again by shooting a web. Gravity did most of the work for Peter’s swinging. Tonight was slightly more cumbersome since he was traveling one-handed, but Peter made a point to move no slower than his usual pace.

He made it to Stark Tower within fifteen minutes.

Dropping lightly to his feet at the building’s entrance, Peter ignored the photos of him being snapped by bystanders. He pushed into the lobby and let security keep the tourists at bay.

Peter cleared his throat as he approached the receptionist and lowered his voice an octave to say, “Hi, I’m here for Tony Stark.” 

“Yes, sir,” the woman said behind the desk. “He’s in his lab, basement floor. Your palm should let you through security.”

Peter nodded, taking the path he felt should be worn smooth with two years’ worth of travels. His feet carried him to the elevator. The elevator carried him beneath the earth.

“Tony?” Peter called, leaving the metal elevator behind. He held the canvas bag in a death grip, full of nerves.

“Over here, Pete,” Tony answered.

Peter weaved between workbenches to reach Tony’s corner desk. He was absorbed in a holographic schematic, arms crossed with one hand cradling his bearded cheek.

“Hi,” Peter said, finally pulling off his mask.

Tony swiveled, eyebrows raising. He said, “This is a first. Something go awry on patrol, Pete?”

“Um,” Peter bit his lip. “No.”

Tony’s eyes dropped to the laundry bag, and he stood.

Walking around the desk, Tony held a hand out for Peter’s bag. He took it, and with a burst of curiosity, opened the drawstring closure to peek inside.

It was empty.

Peter stammered, “I— I— um, nothing needs to be cleaned.”

Tony cocked his head, meeting Peter’s eyes.

Peter clarified, “Yet.”

Wrinkles formed around Tony’s mouth as he started to get an idea of where Peter was going.

“I was— was— hoping,” he blushed, “you’d help me get… dirty.”

Tony made a low noise, definitely smiling now. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Peter’s blushing boyish face.

“Come here,” Tony said.

Peter took a step forward, closing the gap between them. Tony’s hands wrapped around his waist to pull Peter’s lithe body flush against his. Peter gasped softly as their lips connected, his smooth chin rubbing against Tony’s rough beard. Peter sucked Tony’s bottom lip, and Tony responded by pressing his tongue against Peter’s lips, licking and teasing them to push into his mouth. 

He moaned into Tony, and Tony dropped his hands to Peter’s ass, grabbing it through the fabric of the spider suit and pulling Peter’s growing hardness to press against his own.

“Couch?” Tony breathed, pulling away from Peter’s lips.

Peter nodded emphatically. 

They stumbled to the alcove — a nook, really — where Tony kept the couch. Peter fell back into it, Tony on top of him. They were both panting now, and Tony pulled away from kissing Peter long enough to pull off his t-shirt.

Peter’s eyes traced Tony’s muscles greedily. Each ripple of his shoulders, chest, abs, made him want to watch Tony naked forever.

Tony tweaked the spider symbol on Peter’s chest, and suddenly the suit relaxed on his body. Tony leaned down from his position over Peter, kissing his neck as he pulled the suit away. 

“So. Gorgeous,” Tony praised.

Peter pulled his arms out of the suit, resting them to touch Tony’s back. He ran his hands across Tony’s muscles, gripping his shoulders when Tony found Peter’s nipple and sucked on it.

“Oh,” Peter gasped.

“Too much?”

Peter shook his head.

Encouraged, Tony moved further down, pulling away the suit to reveal Peter’s lean abs and navel. With a wicked grin, Tony teased the skin of Peter’s stomach, kissing and biting while Peter lost his breath in half-laughs, half-moans.

“May I?”

Peter’s hardness was clearly visible through the thin fabric of the suit. He swallowed thickly and nodded, “Yes. Pl— please.”

Tony inched the suit further down, pulling the fabric slowly to make the moment last. When the line of material was almost gone enough to reveal Peter’s cock, he suddenly stopped. Peter’s heightened senses allowed him to hear the quick inhale of breath through Tony’s nose.

Peter looked down.

Tony’s eyes were locked on a centimeter of white lace that was covered by the spider suit only a moment ago. His pupils were dilated, thumb moving impossibly slow over the skin there.

Peter held his breath until Tony looked up. He nearly came from the force of Tony’s expression.

With a jerk of his hands, Tony pulled Peter’s suit down to his thighs and gripped Peter’s lace-covered butt cheeks while he ravaged Peter in a kiss.

Breaking away for a split second, Tony breathed, “You.”

A deep press of his mouth.

“Are _so_.”

A peck.

“ _Unbelievably._ ”

Deeper again.

“ _Sexy_.”

Peter moaned. Tony moved his palm to the front of Peter’s panties, rubbing through the sheer white fabric to get another, louder, moan from Peter.

Pulling back to rest between Peter’s legs, Tony stared down at the new pair and asked, “Did you get these just for me?”

Peter shifted his hips, “Yes.”

“I love them,” Tony smiled. It met his eyes.

“Really?” Peter asked.

“I’ve been waiting to see you wearing something lacy for two years now, Pete.”

Peter’s eyelids fluttered shut. “Oh.”

Tony looked down at Peter’s cock. It was stretching the front of his panties and soaking them through with precum.

“Jesus, it was worth the wait.”

Without hesitation, Tony freed Peter’s cock from the flimsy fabric and placed a wet kiss on the tip. 

Peter’s eyes shot open, and much to Tony’s surprise, he protested. “No, Tony— can we—”

Tony let go immediately. Concern blanketed his features when he quickly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I want you up here. On me,” Peter blushed. “If that’s okay.”

Tony’s eyes darkened. He knelt up to unfasten his belt and undo his jeans. 

“Can you flip over?” Tony asked in a husky voice.

Peter contorted, flipping so his stomach was pressed against the cushions. He let his legs go to Tony’s sides again, so that Tony was still kneeling between his open legs. 

Tony settled himself down on Peter’s back. Peter shivered when Tony’s warm skin made contact with his, Tony’s fine chest hairs tickling his shoulder blades and turning him on impossibly more than he already was.

Tony kissed Peter’s shoulder. He was careful not to crush Peter with his full weight, holding himself up with strong arms that hooked under Peter’s. A second and third kiss later, Peter became impatient with Tony’s careful motions. He wiggled his lacy butt against Tony’s cock.

Tony made a low noise, reaching up to nibble Peter’s ear. He leaned on one arm, pushing a hand down to grab Peter’s cock. 

Peter moaned into a cushion at the friction of Tony’s strokes. He pressed his ass back to Tony’s exposed and leaking dick. Tony’s cold belt buckle felt uncomfortable against the back of Peter’s thigh, the zipper poked him on the inside of his leg as Tony moved closer, and yet every sensation was a turn-on. Every sound, touch, and smell fueled Peter’s desire.

“Harder,” Peter breathed.

Tony let his lower half press Peter firmly down into the couch. He reached up with the hand still under Peter and used it to hold his shoulder in a strong grip, keeping him in place. He pulled Peter’s panties down from his ass and let his cock nestle on the valley between Peter’s cheeks. 

Tony undulated his hips. 

Peter moaned, gasping at the feel of Tony slowly pumping his cock against his skin. Peter trusted Tony enough to surrender his control, and Tony was showing him just how well he could take care of him.

“Is this what you wanted?” Tony whispered in Peter’s ear, voice rough with arousal.

Peter reached behind him, awkwardly skimming his fingertips along Tony’s back until he reached Tony’s hip. Peter grabbed it, pulling as Tony thrusted into him, showing Tony he wanted more of it.

“Baby, I asked you a question,” Tony murmured.

“Yes, Tony,” Peter gasped.

“Say my name again,” Tony said. He bit Peter’s shoulder and snapped his hips down with a thrust. 

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, realizing his crack was covered in precum, and Tony was slipping through it with each stroke.

“ _Tony._ ”

Tony squeezed his hand on Peter’s cock, stilling his hand for a moment while he continued moving against Peter like the tide.

“Louder.”

“ _TONY._ ”

He gave a long pull on Peter’s cock, and that was all it took for Peter to cum.

Peter moaned. Obscenely lewdly. He bucked back against Tony’s body, spasming in his hand, coating the couch with a puddle of semen beneath him. After an eternity, his body stopped twitching. His cock started to soften in Tony’s rough hand.

Tony had stilled himself while Peter recovered. It was then that Peter had the self-consciousness to blush again, hiding his face against the couch while he smiled.

“You okay, Peter?”

Tony watched him nod, Peter’s face still turned away. 

“That was amazing, Tony,” Peter confessed, voice muffled by the cushion.

Tony rocked his hips, and Peter’s eyes shot open.

“You didn’t cum?” Peter asked, turning to look at Tony with wide innocent eyes.

Tony hummed a negative, “Mm-mm.” 

Peter gasped as Tony made another thrust.

Peter moved to flip over, and Tony reluctantly backed up to make room. As soon as Peter settled on his back, though, Tony eagerly traced his hands down Peter’s chest and soaked in his well-fucked expression from the vantage point where he kneeled.

Peter reached out to hold Tony’s cock, slowly pumping it as Tony watched. 

“Jesus, Pete.”

“My name is actually Peter Parker,” he smiled cheekily.

“Fuck. I want to do so many dirty fucking things to you, kid,” Tony choked out, lust making his pupils dilated to the max. His normally warm brown eyes were stormy and dark. 

“Do whatever you want to me,” Peter said. He bit his bottom lip seductively, tracing a fingertip down Tony’s chest while he continued to pump his cock.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony squeezed his eyelids shut.

Peter looked down at his white panties. They were wrecked, covered in cum and stretched from his insistent erection that pulled the elastic out of shape. A sudden idea occurred to him, and he pushed the tip of Tony’s cock against his hip and under the lace.

Tony looked down then, breathing heavy while Peter stroked his shaft. The head of his cock rubbed between Peter’s thigh and the panties. It should have been illegal, how intoxicated he felt in that moment.

Tony felt an animalistic energy build inside him. He reached out, holding Peter’s throat firmly. Tony used his other hand to circle the pebble of Peter’s nipple. Peter’s breath hitched, cock twitched, and he keened knowing he was at Tony’s mercy.

Locking eyes with Tony, Peter licked his lips. His eyes were wide, wanting to capture every detail. If this never happened again, he wanted to make sure he remembered each second. Every touch, every motion, every sound.

Tony pressed his thumb into Peter’s adams apple, and he swallowed against the discomfort. Tony was breathing raggedly, hips canting against Peter in thrusts he couldn’t control. He was slipping, no longer sovereign. No longer in charge of what his body did. Tony couldn’t keep his eyes open, and he groaned at the delicious friction of Peter’s hand, squeezing him in all the right places. 

Tony’s balls drew up, and he cursed in a jagged breath, pinching Peter’s nipple to the point of pain while he spurted hot cum all over Peter’s stomach. Peter gasped, coaxing as much out of Tony’s cock as possible. With the final pulses, Tony let out a long breath. He let go of Peter’s throat.

Barely supporting himself on shaking arms, Tony hovered above Peter.

Peter reached up to take Tony’s body in his hands, holding his ribs and taking his full weight as Tony’s arms gave out.

“I’ve got you, Tony,” he said softly.

Peter slowly pulled Tony’s full weight to his chest, welcoming his warmth and naked top half against his own. They were two halves combined now, arms and legs intertwined with spent ejaculate on them both.

Tony caught his breath, turning to Peter’s face. Peter was watching him, rapt. 

“That’s what a 730-day orgasm looks like,” Tony joked.

Peter smiled, face cracking into joy. “Oh yeah?”

“You’ve been in my wet dreams ever since I saw you next to those fucking nylons in CVS,” Tony smirked, propping his head up on a fist.

“Can nylons be dry-cleaned?” Peter asked, smirking right back.

“I’d buy you a lifetime supply, baby,” Tony whispered. “You’d never have to clean a pair in your life.”

Peter watched Tony’s face. It conveyed nothing but seriousness and vulnerability. He was an open book. He blinked, taking it in, Tony sans masks. A rare moment.

“I’m sure we can think of something more eco-friendly,” Peter joked, breathless at the intimacy.

“Whatever you want. All I need is you,” Tony said. His eyes looked wet, and Peter’s heart was breaking in half at the sight.

“You have me,” Peter said. “Now and always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want pics? The first and last pair of undies mentioned (navy and white):  
> https://www.skiviez.com/collections/lace-underwear/products/secret-male-smi025-lace-bottom-bikini?variant=31240534523927
> 
> Comments aren’t required but they’re the fuel that keeps me writing. Feel free to let me know I'm a perv and that the ending was unnecessarily sappy. (:
> 
> Thanks for reading & hope you enjoyed it! <3


End file.
